


Gift of Silk

by silurica



Series: Look to Love, Always [2]
Category: Fallen London | Echo Bazaar
Genre: But not strictly Seeking, Gen, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Seeking-esque dream
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-13
Updated: 2018-05-13
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:55:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28251240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silurica/pseuds/silurica
Summary: Happiness was no more than a dream for them.
Series: Look to Love, Always [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2068755





	Gift of Silk

Small footsteps resounded in the wooden floored hallway. It only stopped as the small boy entered a room, a wide smile on his round face as he held up colorful paper cranes held together by a string. “Father! Look!”

The man in fine silk looked up from the book in his hands. A smile formed on his face as he commented, “Oh, how beautiful. Did you make this?”

“Hehe.” The boy’s grin grew wider. “This is for you, Father. Did you know? Paper cranes can grant wishes!”

“That is splendid, my dear.”

“Yes! I made a lot for your wishes, ‘cause I love you a whole lot! Oh, but I think I want one too. I want to ask the gods for us to be always together. Um…” The boy stopped chattering for a moment to scan over the paper cranes, his little finger tracing the folds and patterns on the papers. “Oh, this blue one looks good. One day I will finish making one thousand and together we will—”  
  
His words were cut off by droplets of red on the blue crane. When he looked up, he saw: a dark sky, his father’s fine silk dyed red, the disheveled hair falling over his face, and an old well gaping behind.

“That could have been wonderful, S̡͂̎͒͛̓̋̔̀͗̀ͨͪ̑҉̧̱̼͈̩͚͓̗̭/̶̸͚̺̱͙͚̳͙͇͓̙̱͉͆̽ͮ̒͋̇̔̈͊́̿̋ͪ̚̕͠/̸̢͌͗̉̆̐ͮͧ̓ͦ̋͋̌̈́̍͞͏͏̞̮͇͓̦̹̬̦̮[̙̫͕̜̟̞̝̤͎̰̻̬̰̝̩ͮ̓ͫ̈́̀̽͐͒̈̍͢͝ͅͅ]͉͇̠̟̠̯̦̻͕̫͓ͮ̃ͧͣ̂͂ͫ̇͒ͪ̂̌̾͘̕͡ͅ█̧̞̦̺͈̺͍̲͛̿ͭͤ͘.”

…

That dream again. A dream of his dear father, of wishes that will never come true.

While he sits pondering on his bed, the urchins are making a commotion outside the window; perhaps fighting with a few of the cats he knows, judging from the yelling and growling. Outside his door, a woman impatiently knocks while spouting curses in a language only the two of them can understand in this city. Another night has passed. Time to get up.

**Author's Note:**

> Originally titled "Of...". It was meant to be a placeholder title, but I guess I never got around to actually giving it a proper one. I'm still not sure if I have given this a good title now.
> 
> Just once, I wanted to use Zalgo text in writing. I believe technology is meant to be used.


End file.
